


Welcome to Jurassic Park

by userdylanobrien



Series: What do you call a dinosaur with no eyes? (Do-ya-think-he-saw-us) [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Book and Movie Themes, Deaton is Hammond, Fluffy Baby Raptors, Jurassic Park AU, M/M, Stiles and Derek are like every character at one point or another, animal behaviourist Derek, derek is still a werewolf, dino puns, paleontologist Stiles, picking and choosing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-01-26 00:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12544608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/userdylanobrien/pseuds/userdylanobrien
Summary: "Dr. Hale, Dr. Stilinski, Welcome to Jurassic Park."-Aka:The Sterek Jurassic Park AU that no one asked for, but I wanted.





	1. Welcome to Jurassic Park

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jmee (Jmeelee)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jmeelee/gifts), [behindthemaddness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/behindthemaddness/gifts).



> (unbeta'ed, please message to tell me if there any mistakes!)
> 
> Welcome to Jurassic park and my first ever fanfic! 
> 
> I am currently hale-dereks on tumblr.

Stiles stares off to the right, fascinated by the tropical plant life around them however there is something nagging at the back of his head. There is something off. He thinks with the tilt of his head and frowns his eyebrows.

Up ahead there is a tree with its branches overhanging on the road. Stiles reaches out and grabs hold of one of the leafy branches as the Park’s jeep drives by, tearing it from the tree. The rough bark scraping along his hands.

Stiles’ eyes are wide with curiosity as he stares at the branch in his hands, flipping it over and running his fingers over every piece of greenery, trying to decipher the secrets that he’s certain that the foliage contains.

That buzzy feeling is back, tingling in his neck. Stiles whips his head back to the second jeep trailing behind them and locks eyes with Dr. Alan Deaton, the Parks creator.

Deaton gives Stiles his classic enigmatic smile as he flashes his eyes down to the branch poking out of the jeep. Deaton then turns to the driver, Stiles reads his lips, they formed a sentence of,

“Just stop here, stop here. Slow, slow.”

And the jeep behind them comes to a complete stop, and Stiles turns to the driver beside him, well, a driver is too loose of a term to describe the man of his dreams he’s pretty sure.

The man beside him was none other than Derek Hale, a renowned animal behaviorist, and biologist and possibly one of the smartest people that Stiles knows, well besides himself and Lydia Martin.

Plus, one of the hottest.

Like seriously, how does one look so rugged and well-groomed at the same time? It was completely unfair! And not to mention, the dude is an avid polyglot, seriously how is one supposed to contain themselves whenever Derek breaks out the Spanish? Stiles’ poor bisexual heart nearly explodes on the spot and –

And Derek’s kaleidoscopic eyes are searching his face with interest, he clearly must’ve asked Stiles a question while he was out for the count, worshiping every deity for allowing him to exist at the same time as Derek Hale.

Ugh, this is awkward.

“Ah, I have no idea what’s happening, dude. I guess he wants us to stop and check something out?” Stiles rushed out with a too wide and shaky smile, “He was looking at leafy a little funky,” lifting his branch a little higher,

“Maybe he saw something wrong with the color and wanted to check it out, I don’t know?” Stiles was waving his already occupied hands a little defensively, almost swatting Derek in the face with a leaf as the man ducks out of the way.

Derek just rolls his eyes with a smirk and uses his finger to push the branch out of his face, before looking at the foliage in Stiles’ lap more closely. Frowning his impressive eyebrows.

Stiles finds it a little weird and tries to look anywhere other those searching eyes.

Upwards sounds a good idea.

Stiles observes the trees surrounding them, noticing that several of the tree trunks are leafless – the same sort of thickness as the other trees, but grey and lifeless, and a differently textured bark, almost like leather.

He then looks back at Derek who is still studying the branch intensely.

“This shouldn’t be here,” Derek says, which rude.

Stiles places the branch on the car floor and twists in his seat, so he can slowly stand up and somehow get closer to investigate. Leaning over the top of his seat, practically on his tippy toes, he stretches out his neck to look higher.

“That species of plant-life has been extinct since the Cretaceous period. That thing should be dead.” Which, again, rude.

His eyes trailing the trunk. Higher.

And higher.

And higher.

That’s not a tree trunk that’s a leg.

Stiles finds his mouth stretched open and jaw hitting the floor. Not turning away from the dinosaur, he reaches out blindly for Derek with hand, before grabbing his jaw, soft scruff scraping along his fingertips as he guides Derek’s head to look above the tree line.

“Stiles what are you – Oh—My–God” Derek breathes out, “That’s a – That’s a –”

“That’s a freaking Brachiosaurus, dude!” Stiles lets out a long whoop, combined with a shout of joy as he pulls himself up and jumps over the jeep’s uncovered bars to get out of the car. Derek gets out through the door but is hot on Stiles’ heels.

They both stop short of the beast’s huge feet both staring up in wonder, watching as it crunches on the branches in its mouth. Staring down at them with a pleasant and lazy gaze.

“He did it. The crazy son of a bitch, he actually did it” Stiles heard Derek say next to him, voice amazed but with an expression full of serious understanding.

The two followed the brachiosaur, commenting excitedly on the anatomy and scientific structure of the dinosaur.

“The movement,” Derek exclaimed,

“The agility! You’re totally right, dude! We can tear up the rule book on cold-bloodedness. It doesn’t apply, they’re totally wrong! This is a warm-blooded creature. They’re totally wrong!” Stiles chattered with excitement.

Derek nodded “They were wrong. Case closed. This thing doesn’t live in a swamp to support its body weight for God’s sake.”  
They watch as the dinosaur stands effortlessly on its back legs, reaching for a branch high above its head. Ripping away several off the top of the tree.

Stiles turns back to Dr. Deaton, who is walking up to them. “That animal has what? A twenty, twenty-seven feet neck?” he asks the man.

“The brachiosaur? Thirty.” Corrects Deaton, who looks like a proud parent showing off his kid. Stiles looks back at Derek with his mouth forming thirty soundlessly and dramatically and watched as Derek nodded instantly, cataloging all this information in his head, before turning back around to point the finger at Deaton.  
“And you’re to sit there and try and tell me that thing can push blood up a thirty-foot neck without a four-chambered heart and get around like that? Like that!” he gestures wildly at the foraging beast behind him. “this is like a knockout for warm-bloodedness!”

“We also clocked the T-rex at thirty-two miles per hour” Deaton stated proudly.

“You’ve got a T-rex?” Derek asks Deaton before turning to Stiles for assurance that he heard right, Stiles nodded furiously “He’s got a T-rex! A T-rex. He said he’s got a fucking T—”

Stile grabs Deaton’s shoulders and gives him a shake, “Say it again!” Deaton seemed a little taken back but obligated anyway  
“Yes, we have a T-rex.”

Stiles lets out a whoop and he finds himself putting his hands on Derek’s shoulders and jumping up and down. And to his immense pleasure, he gets to see Derek showing off his adorable bunny teeth with the widest smile possible and his eyes crinkled in happiness.

Stiles stops jumping and just stares at him, and Derek, in turn, is no longer smiling widely but his features were still soft and happy. They both continue to stare at one another for entirely too long, cataloging each other’s faces and as Stiles begun to drift his eyes down to his lips—Deaton, of course, coughs to get their attention.

Dammit, Deaton.

“Dr. Stilinki, and Dr. Hale. Welcome to Jurassic Park.”

They all turn to look at the view again, this time without the dinosaur blocking the way.

And was the most beautiful sight Stiles has ever seen. A whole herd of parasaurolophus where drinking at the water’s edge while a couple of brachiosauruses were swimming in the lake, it reminded Stiles of an African watering hole.

“Derek, they’re moving in herds. Dude. We were right they do move in herds!” Oh, and the bunny teeth and dimples were back. Either he was going to die by all the new first-hand dinosaur information or he was going to die by that smile.

Stiles let out an awkward cough and went back to staring at the scenery in front of him. “How did you do this” Stiles said into the wind but directed at Deaton, who answered all the same.

“I’ll show you.”

“I’ll show you.”


	2. Egg-citing News

Deaton led the group to the visitor center of Jurassic Park, where several large buildings were connected and were surrounded by impressive fencing, scaling with height and electrified. As they ascended the stairs, Stiles notices that a lot of the structure in the building is yet to be finished, on the outside, it is skeletal in appearance and on the inside, well, it’s no better

There was a large tyrannosaurus rex skeleton in the very center of the building with a large banner hung above, he felt the urge to walk closer to examine the banner and the gigantic fossil. The impulse seemed ridiculous because as a paleontologist Stiles had studied hundreds of different dinosaurs and the t-rex wasn’t even a huge rarity to find in the fossil digs. And yet here he stood, gapping and bewildered.

WHEN DINOSAURS RULED THE EARTH. Stiles read, shaking his head.

Derek must’ve seen his reaction because he then asked him, “what are you thinking?” and the young paleontologist had no idea how to respond.

Stiles faintly heard Deaton waling into the next room, explaining how Jurassic Park is the most advanced of an amusement park in the world because even though they don’t have the normal rides most parks do, they had literally engineered a series of biological attractions to capture the imagination of the whole world.  
But in that moment Stiles couldn’t tear himself away from the skeleton before him to become more invested in the tour, nor from the warm heat, Derek was radiating off himself.

Beside him, Derek snorted “Well, it looks like a lot of people will be out of the job soon” and as if breaking the spell, Stiles tuned on his heels and rushed to catch up with Deaton but not be throwing a remark over his shoulder,

“Yeah man, paleontology will be the one to go extinct this time!” as he exits the room, but not before he swears he sees Derek give him another one of his fond eyeroll.  
When he entered the room the sight was astonishing, it was like a cinema and amusement ride hybrid. A large screen was projected in front of a row of fifty chairs with safety bars, ready to move it seems.

“Ah. Dr. Stilinki, Dr.Hale, we were wondering where you two had run off to. Here, why don’t you sit down.” Alan Deaton told them, gesturing to the seats. Stiles and Derek took a seat in the front row of the fifty-seat auditorium.

Deaton walked over to the large screen in front of them and suddenly behind him was a large duplicate of himself. “Hello, Alan,” the clone said, which Deaton greeted back, and the two Deaton went on explaining how the genetics of the park animals’ work.

“Paleo-DNA? From what source? Where do you get 100-million-year-old dinosaur blood?” Stiles whispered incredulously, and Derek grunted in agreement. As if the screen had heard him, a little cartoon DNA strand suddenly pops up right next to Deaton’s duplicate.

The Deaton clone asks the DNA strand where he comes from, and the cartoon happily replies that it comes from blood and that just one drop of blood contains billions of strands of DNA, which were the building blocks of life.

“A DNA strand is like a blueprint for a building, except for living things! And sometimes an animal which went extinct, like dinosaurs, left behind their blueprints for us to find!” Mr. DNA said excitedly as the screen shows a mosquito sucking the blood from a large, long-necked dinosaur.

“Sometimes, after biting a dinosaur would land on a tree and get suck in the sap! And after a long time, the tree sap would get hard and become fossilized, just like dinosaur bones, preserving the mosquito inside! Using sophisticated methods, they extract the DNA from the mosquito and

–

BINGO! Dino DNA!”

The images on the screen flash between a mosquito getting stuck in tree sap to being preserved and examined by a scientist as he carefully drills into the hardened amber.  
“A full DNA strand contains three billion genetic codes! If we looked at screens like these,” Mr. DNA jumps down in front of a DNA strand as it races passed by “once a second for eight hours a day, it’d take two years to look at to look at the entire strand! And since it’s so old, its full of holes! That’s where our geneticists take over.”

“Thinking Machine supercomputers and gene sequencers breakdown the strands in minutes and virtual reality displays show our geneticists the gaps in the DNA sequence! Since most animal DNA is ninety percent identical, we use the complete DNA of a frog to fill in the holes -- and complete the-- code” Mr. DNA says grunting as he shoves the DNA bonds in place to fill the gaps. He brushes his hands off satisfied.

“Now we can make a baby dinosaur!” the animated cartoon says joyfully, making Stiles and Derek look at each other with uncertainty.

“The dramatic music isn’t written yet, and well anyways, the tour moves on,” Deaton says as he presses a switch and the safety bars suddenly drop over their seat and click into place, the rows of seats move slowly past an area where a huge sign says,

“GENETICS/ FERTILIZATION/ HATCHERY/NURSERY” as Stiles leans forward against his bars, frustrated as he tries to look inside the windows better but with no success as the seats continue to move onto another set of windows.

“Can’t we stop to see the eggs hatch?” Stiles asks, as he strains to look back at hatchery window, but the cars keep moving with no intention to stop, Deaton replies that they will stop by after and to enjoy the ride.

Stiles’ ADHD is flaring up and he can’t sit still, he keeps trying to pull on the bars, but they won’t budge. Derek looks at them critically and back at the hatchery room.  
“Let’s get out of here,” Derek says, and what? Even with all those muscles there’s no way he’d be able to lift the bars on his own, they are bolted down –   
Oh, and he did it.

Ignoring Deaton’s request to wait for the end of the tour, they both stand up and head for the door of the room, but once they reach it they realize they must wait for him to punch in a code for it to open.

Deaton gives them a stink eye as punches in the code and pushes the door open. Only to find another coded door. And another one. Until finally they reach the hatchery.

The hatchery is large open room, warm and humid, and bathed in heat from the lamps. The long tables which ran from wall to wall were covered in eggs of all different shapes and sizes.

“Good day, Scott,” Deaton says to one of the assistants writing notes down in a white coat. He was tanned and had a face like a dopy puppy, which lit up when he saw Deaton. Something about him made Stiles smile, it might’ve been the floppy hair or crooked jaw. “Oh, Hi Deaton!” Scott forgot what he was writing and rushed over to the group, shaking each hand. “And friends” trading names with them.

“You guys came at the right time, I hoped they would hatch before I had to leave!” Scott said over his shoulder as he led the group to the nest which he was observing. There were several oval-shaped eggs resting in a circle, one egg was shaking but was soon stilled by a robotic arm.

“Oh My God, look!” whispers Stiles loudly and he bends down to peer at the egg a little closer. Derek and Scott do the same, as Deaton bends down to grab some plastic gloves out of the packet under the table. “Scott, why didn’t you tell me? I insist on here when they are born” Deaton says but waves off Scott’s attempts of apologizing.   
There were tiny cracking noises as the infant tries to poke its nose through the shell, the group giving off whispered encouragements.

“Go, little buddy.” Stiles finds himself saying.

“C’mon, little one. Come on.” He hears Derek encourage.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

And success.

The little head breaks through. Making the group chuckle with delight.

Deaton helps the baby with the rest of the egg shells on its face, peeling them away. The infant makes small squeaking noises as its helped out of its shell, “Come on, then, out you come” Deaton says softly, as he explains imprinting to the group. “They imprint on the first thing living creature they come in contact with. That helps them to trust me. I have been present for the birth of every animal on this island. Just look at that.” He says staring at the baby with pride.

The infant, even with all the goop attached to its downy chick feathers was such a precious sight. Stiles had a hard time not cooing over it.

“Surely not the ones that have bred in the wild?” Derek asks, and Stiles nods in agreement. There is just no way he’d be able to keep track of it all. Not one man.   
“They can’t breed in the wild” Scott pipes up, which makes Deaton nod and take over.

“How do you know they can’t breed?” Stiles says, because really?

“Population is under strict control, there is no unauthorized breeding. Plus, all the animals are female. We have engineered them that way.” Deaton nods at him and then to the gloves and Stiles takes the hint and rushes to put them on.

Once on, Deaton places the infant in the palm of Stiles’ hand, where he holds the baby under the heat lamp.

“Watch her head – support her head” Stiles runs his finger delicately over its tail, counting the vertebrae, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Behind him, Derek is still debating with Deaton about the fact that all the dinosaurs are female,

“Alan, the kind of control your attempting is not possible. If there’s one thing the history of evolution has taught us, it is that life will not be contained. Life breaks free. It expands to new territories. It crashes through barriers and well – I am just simply saying…that life finds a way.”

Stiles would usually be all up in the debate but he’s still obsessing over the dinosaur in his hands, this-this can’t be. But it has to be.

“What species is this?” Stiles asks, not directing it at anyone as he already knows the answer.

“A velociraptor!” Scott says excitedly.

Stiles and Derek both turn slowly and look at each other and then Deaton astonished.

“Ah, there’s some older babies in the nursery if you want to see them?” Scott says as if the cool the tension.


	3. Feathers

“This is my main job on the island,” Scott explained, as he escorted them through the short hall connecting the nursery and hatchery, which like the nursery had extreme security measures. While Derek had found it over the top it was very understandable. The dinosaurs and equipment must’ve cost a fortune to have been created and used.

“I get to overlook the health and progress of the infants and keep their holdings clean. From birth to enclosure relocation. But the most surprising thing is that Deaton usually doesn’t allow attendants to overlook the park’s predator animals like this, but I am not complaining.” The young attendant smiled, as he opened what Derek presumed was the final door that separated them from the hatchery.

And he was right.

The nursey, like the previous room, was illuminated with heating lamps and surrounded by mist and humidified. There were four moderately sized enclosures with thick undergrowth and ferns, one in each corner of the room being barricaded by two separate fencing, one wired and one glass.

As Scott led them to the furthest enclosure, Derek noticed that the others were vacant.

Strange.  
“Watch out for the black one, she is the biggest and is quick to judge. So, it’s important to make her like you off the bat, her sisters’ follow suit and listen to her. So, yeah, it’s necessary to make the best impression.” The attendant said almost fondly, as he unlocked the cage for Derek and Stiles to enter.

“No, pressure dudes,” Scott smirked as kneeled on the ground, looking deep into the where the bush was the thickest. Derek found himself looking to Stiles, who just made an exaggerated shrugged and did the same.

Derek was about to kneel, but then he heard it, the tiny pitter patter of velociraptor feet. The undergrowth hid the dinosaurs well, Derek heard them scampering around. There was must be several he noted, weaving in and out of each other’s trail to mask the numbers much like wolves.

They even clicked their claw on the fabricated forest floor, and while faint to even his supernatural hearing, the tapping was still driving him crazy. Where were they? It was like Morse code, only it was a language that ‘raptors could comprehend. Derek could even smell the animals’, musky and leathered, but seeing them was the real challenge.

Derek was about to open his mouth in question, to ask if they were shy or just reclusive before a dark shadow was suddenly leaping out of the forest in such velocity it was just a black smudge, it was headed straight for Stiles, who yelped. Derek felt his wolf close to the surface, ready to roar the creature down before—

“There she is!”

Scott yelled out happily, the black smudge was perched on one of Stiles’ broad shoulders, and she had –

“Feathers?” He asked, completely surprised. The hatchling had velvety fluff, sure, but it had nothing on this creature before him. She was dark, with even darker stripes and golden specks emphasizing some of her thick downy plumage, which covered most of her body beside her snout and feet and hands. She was less than a foot high, but with her plumage, it was impossible to get a good estimate.

“Oh yeah, didn’t I say they’d have feathers? Whoops. Anyways, Deaton told me that more and more fossilized studies were coming back with evidence of dinosaurs having feathers, so he said that to make everyone happy we were gonna have two different types of ‘raptors, one with and one without the feathers. And this little lady and her sisters are the first to be born with the extra warmth.” Scott explained as he pointed to the raptor assessing Stiles, she was looking deep into his honeyed eyes which were now sans glasses as she had knocked them off.

Stiles hadn’t spoken a word since the velociraptor chick had found his shoulder a roosting spot, which was very uncharacteristic of him. Derek instantly felt protective of him and went over to crouch beside him, to take her gaze off though doe-stunned eyes.

She could tell he was another predator and began to puff up her plumage to look to look bigger, letting out a low rumble which he found himself imitating by instinct. The chick, surprisingly, begun to calm down and chirp softly as he continued to make a low rumble, opening and closing her eyes slowly and lazily.

“Dude, are you purring?” Stiles asks incredulously. Oh, now he gets his voice back.

As Scott says at the same time, “Hey look, she likes you!”

Derek didn’t know how to respond so he just smirked and focused on the chick before him examining her even more so. Her eyes were a blood red.

Like moms were.

He thought bittersweetly.

Like Laura’s were.

He thought sadder.

Like his are.

He didn’t have time to feel any more depressed in that instance because the chick had let out a sound that could only be unique to its species, and suddenly four other velociraptors’ break out of the underbrush and come to their feet. None of them were as dark as the one on Stiles’ shoulder nor as big. One was a dark brown with tiger stripes, another looked like a serval and the last two were a lighter gray.

They were all looking up at the perched one expectantly.

“It’s like they have already set up a social hierarchy at such a young age. Like she’s their –” Stiles began, bewildered.

“Their alpha. She is their alpha and they’re her pack.” Derek finished, with a strange mix of pride and longing, and in that moment allowed himself to feel a sense of want.

The most primal part of himself wanted. A want to join a pack again, a want to hunt and belong.

The walkie-talkie at Scott’s side began to static and a female voice came through, rushed and hurried “Scott, it’s Game Warden Argent. Is Deaton with you? The velociraptors are attacking the fence again.”


	4. Hunters' Instinct

After learning of the disturbance that the adult velociraptors were creating, Deaton charges back through the visitor center to a large compound outside. Derek set the pace with Stiles, as the younger man hurried to keep up with the usually stoic man, who currently had a fire in his eyes and a strong gait in his legs.

Derek recognized the raptor pen from earlier, the heavily fortified compound with scaling fencing surrounding thick jungle. As they reach the compound, He sees Stiles standing right up against the fence, curious for a glimpse of the adult dinosaurs and with the sound of electrified static in his ears, Derek felt the deep urge to pull the paleontologist behind him for protection.

The sound of thumping footsteps, however, stops him from making an overprotective fool of himself and he turns his head to see a young man and woman, around Scott and Stiles’ age, making their way over to them in a hurry.

The woman reaches them first, her long dark hair in a tight braid and she had the piercing brown eyes of a huntress, which sent shivers down Derek’s spine. The large rifle she was holding didn’t help in the slightest.

“Sir, the velociraptors have been attacking sector six for approximately eight minutes.” The girl said, addressing Deaton in a military manner. Her voice was a little out of breath, but it was no mistaking that it was the same as the one on the walkie.

Derek realized that must mean that this is game warden Argent.

“Again?” Deaton sighed, and the curly, blonde-haired man behind the game warden nodded profusely and said,

“Yes sir, the big one leading the charge again. She had them all attacking the fence as soon as the feeders came. Like she has all week.”

“Isaac is right, they have been attacking all week. But it has never been in the same place twice. It’s like she’s having them test the fence for weaknesses. Systematically. She remembers.” Argent tells them, respect written all over her face but also fear.

“So, it’s true, they show intelligence? With the brain cavity like theirs, we always assumed --” Stiles started, excited beyond reason.

“Ah, yes extremely intelligent and lethal. Especially with the biggest one. Originally there was eight in the pack but once Kali, after the Hindu goddess of destruction and death, very fitting I say, moved in and took over. She killed all but a select few subordinates. With that one, you can see that when she looks at you, you just know that she’s working something out,”

“She’s the reason we have to feed them like this,” Deaton explained, shotting a hand up to a small bull, swinging in the air over the enclosure by a crane. “Come, its feeding time.” He gestured them to follow him.

Deaton begins to climb up the stairs to the viewing deck, leaving Stiles and Derek to rush to catch up. Once they reached the top, the bull was barely visible amongst the shroud of thick foliage, but Derek could see the shadow of the poor thing struggling against its harness and hear its cries as it was lowered to the ground.

Once the animal was out of sight, all that could be seen was the slack rope from the crane. The jungle below became very quiet, eerie like. The bull was no longer crying, and the frogs, birds, and insects had stopped singing.

All Derek could hear was Stiles’ heart beating and heavy anticipated breathing as he stares at the motionless crane line. All was still – before there was a sudden jerk was sent through the rope, like a fish nibbling at a hook. Before becoming slack again.

And then the frenzy started. The crane’s line was swinging frantically in several different ways, the sound of the branches and ferns swaying and snapping and breaking underfoot from the frantic activity within, a cascade of screeches and growls and the wet crunches of teeth were all deafening to Derek’s supernaturally enhanced hearing.

  
The poor bull was being torn to pieces, Derek thinks, somehow the sound of it all made it worse because he couldn’t see what was happening.

The frantic tugging eases up and slowly stops altogether. And the sound of the jungle comes back to life, leaving Derek to blink excessively, this is how life moves on?  
Behind them, the crane whirred up. Derek watched as the cable slowly retracted from the raptors pen, nothing resembling the bull from before, as the harness was stricken with blood and tattered flesh.

The clap of hands sent Derek and Stiles, who was standing with a slacked jaw, flying back.

“Now, who's got questions?” Deaton says, and of course, Stiles jumps at the chance, following Deaton down the stairs with a spring in his step.

“Tell me, what sort of metabolism do they have? And what is their growth rate?” Stiles asks excitedly.

“They become lethal at around eight months. And I do mean lethal, the way these animals move is…” Deaton says, swirling his hand looking for a word.

  
“Fast for a biped?” Stiles’ supplies.

“Astonishing so, cheetah speed. Fifty, sixty miles per hour if they ever got out in the open. And they are fantastic jumpers which is why we have taken extreme precautions. I assure you, whatever you saw with the infant is nothing compared to these adults and their abilities.” Stiles and Deaton’s conversation becomes background noise as they make their way down to the ground.

Derek continues to stay at the very top of the canopy lookout, straining to just to capture a small glimpse of the full-grown dinosaurs. And gets his wish.

Through a small clearing a velociraptor stalks her way out, she stops when she’s in the center. Tilting her nose in various angles, sniffing the air. She’s hunting me, Derek thought with a chill. Kali, he presumed, lifted her muzzle upwards and shifted her head until she locked onto him.

She was too far down to get a proper, unblurred image of her but he could just imagine her staring at him with the bull’s blood staining her jaw as bright as her red beady eyes. He felt himself flashing his red eyes back too, which made her respond with a violent hiss.

Derek somehow knew that this wasn’t the last he’d see of her.


	5. Trust Your Gizzard

The cheesy music begins to play loudly as two large jeeps emerge from the visitor’s garage and stop where the group is gathered. The vehicles were quiet, besides a faint electrical hum as they rolled across on the railing.

Smart. Stiles thought. It wouldn’t set a good example If a dinosaur park was using fossil fuel, now would it.

“—they’re electrical cars, guided by this track in the roadway, and totally non-polluting and are top of the line, you just touch the right part of the screen on the interactive CD-ROM and it talks about whatever you want whilst touring. We spared no expense. I’ll be watching you all enjoy the tour in our control room.” Deaton explained eagerly before turning to Derek. “Come along Doctor. You’ll ride in the second car, I can promise you’ll have a wonderful time.”

Derek frowned and looked at Stiles like he didn’t want to split up from him, which in all honestly made Stiles’ heart flutter before he looked back at Deaton and gave the Parks owner a brief nod and allowed himself to be escorted into the second car.

Stiles finds himself moving to follow the behaviorist but is cut off by someone calling his name.

“STILES! Wait, Dr. Stilinki, wait.” Stiles turns to see Scott running towards him, white coat flapping erratically behind him. As the other man pulls up to Stiles, completely puffed out, back bent, hands on knees the whole shebang, fumbling for something from his pocket. An inhaler, Stiles sees, when he straightens his back and takes the inhaler to suck in a deep breath.

“Deaton’s letting me do the tour before I have to leave!” Scott tells him once he gathers himself, grinning ear to ear, causing Stiles to smile just as goofily back. “Well, come on then, dude!” Stiles says excitedly as claims the front passenger seat, Scott moving the claim the opposite one.

The two jolted as the Explorers made a loud clunk before rolling on the electrical rails, only to stop short at a large rustic and prehistoric looking gate which had two flaming torches on either end, giving it a real primitive feeling.

What are they guarding here? King Kong? Stiles thought, snorting.

“Welcome to Jurassic Park.” Deaton’s voice, on the telecom, announces as the gate opens, with adventurous music playing as they pass through. “You are now entering the lost world of prehistoric past, a world of creatures long gone from the face of the earth, which you’re privileged to see for the first time.”

Looking out into the park, Stiles could barely see the fences as they were covered with expansive vines and greenery which carried on for some time, looking almost like a real jungle. As they come to the bottom of the hill, where a break in the foliage destroys the illusion of a forest, the tour voice continues,

“To the right, you will see a pack of the first dinosaurs on our tour, they’re called Dilophosaurus.” Stiles practically slammed his face against the glass to get a look at the animals, he knew all the theories of their paralytic venom but his inquisitive nature, like all usual, got the best of him.

“These animals are one of the earliest carnivores. We now know the Dilophosaurus is a venomous species, as it spits at its prey causing blindness and eventual paralysis, allowing the carnivore to eat at its leisure. This makes the Dilophosaurus a beautiful but deadly addition to Jurassic Park.” The telecom explains, making Stiles shiver. What a way to go. The corny, scary music would usually make Stiles’ roll his eyes but in this case, he found a charm in it all as he was staring in anticip—

And much to his disappointment, the car moves on. He looks to Scott in confusion but all he was given was an exaggerated face pull and full body shrug, he was just as puzzled as Stiles was.

His displeasure, however, is short-lived once he realized what the next enclosure is.

The tyrannosaurus rex paddock.

As they got closer to the paddock, the aura in the car and surroundings were deathly eerie. The towering fifteen-foot fence shadowed the road and Explorers even as they were separated by the dugout moat, the ghostly vibe was not diminished by the signs yelling DANGER 10,000 VOLTS hanging off the electrified cables in any way.

“The mighty tyrannosaurus arose late in the dinosaur history. Dinosaurs ruled the earth for hundred and fifty million years –” the voice from the radio drones on, but Stiles is hardly listening as he once again plasters himself against the window. His arm fumbles for the switch to turn off and he and Scott wait in silence.

Suddenly, from the paddock, there is the sound of cables wiring up and a concrete platform breaks apart to reveal a cage. As suddenly as it appeared the cage bars slide back into the earth leaving behind a lone occupant. It was a goat, Stiles realized, chained to a post and bleating like its life depended on it. The goat tugged on its short chain, walking back and forth, pacing with intent to get away from the predator scented area.

But for some reason, the t-rex wasn’t hungry. They sat and watched the goat tug around for a good while as it went through the transition of struggle to relaxation, she must’ve come to the same conclusion as he did, because she had obviously decided it was fruitless to fight nothing and lays down, chewing on some grass at her bent legs.

Although Stiles hadn’t wanted to see the goat being devoured, necessary, he was still filled with the disappointment of not seeing the king of tyrant lizards or in this case, the queen.

Stiles begins to grow tired of watching the goat do nothing but eat and started to let his eyes wander. After drifting around for a moment, he sees movement out of the corner of his eye and looks into the mirror of the car. Watching Derek get out of his own Explorer in one quick motion.   
He throws open his own door to run after him, leaving Scott’s shouts in the dust.  
Stiles follows Derek’s footsteps up the inclined hill and once he reaches the top, he was about to ask him why he was in such a rush but from the far-away look on his face, he knew the best answer was to see it himself. He allowed himself to be guided by the behaviorist to a large clearing.

And boy was it worth it.

A large triceratops was laying on her side, her giant frill and horns were nestled into the dirt, the dirt was all clouded around her as she took deep, raspy snorts unsettling the mound making dust fly everywhere. Her eyes were the half lid and tired.

Even with her sick appearance, Stiles still thought she was beautiful. He looks up to one of the veterinarians, a woman with black curly hair and shared a remarkable amount of similarities to Scott, Stiles noticed. He asked the woman if it was okay for him to touch her.

The woman did an encouraging nod, and Stiles made his way over to the sick animal, deciding to kneel where Derek ended up – at the creatures face. He began to stroke the horned nose to soothe it.

Derek was frowning his brow in complete concentration and he began to pick at the Triceratops’s tongue, with any other creature Stiles would have been worried that he would be hurting the poor animal, but the tongue of the triceratops seemed very hard and durable, so he didn’t feel concerned. The tongue was a huge limp, purple thing that drooped out of the animals’ mouth, lifelessly, as Derek continued to pick at it before finally breaking a blister and watching a clear liquid leak out.

Gross.

“Microvesicles. That’s interesting.” Derek said out loud, probably to himself, he then looked up at the vet and asked, “What are her symptoms?” The woman handed over her penlight to Derek, who went into biologist mode and shined the light in the animal’s eye.

The professionalism was kind of hot actually if you’d ask Stiles.

“Imbalance, disorientation, labored breathing. Seems to happen every six weeks or so.” The veterinarian replied, causing Derek frowns in confusion as he studies the large eye before him carefully, “Six weeks? Are these pupillary effects from the tranquilizer?”

“Yes, mitotic, the pupils should be constricted” she answered, and Derek just shook his head and pointed at the orb itself, “These are dilated. Take a look.”

And the woman made a surprised sound, bending to get a better look at it herself. “I’ll be damned---that’s potamological. From local plant life.”

Derek nods at the vet’s examination and rose to study his surroundings. Stiles could see Derek’s mind straining hard behind his piercing kaleidoscopic eyes, analyzing each fern critically before zoning in on a plant with pale berries. “Is that West Indian Lilac?” He asks incredulously.

And one of the worst possible exchanges Stiles has ever heard took place. Right in front of him.

“Yes, we know they’re toxic, but the animals don’t eat them.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“There’s only one way to be positive. We need to see the dinosaur’s droppings.”

“You won’t be able to miss them.”

Stiles’ let out a groan that sounded even more guttural than the sick triceratops. This is just great.

\--

“That’s one big pile of shit.” Surprise laced Stiles voice, as he walked over to the huge mound of dinosaur feces. He heard Derek snort at his wrinkled-up face and looked over to see Derek digging at the waist-high dunghill. His gloved arm finally withdrew from the middle of the mound, causing droppings to tumble everywhere.

“You’re right. There’s no trace of lilac berries. That’s weird, though. She shows all the classic signs of Melia-toxicity,” he said, pulling the glove off his arm. He was still incomplete hunting mode looking for the cause of the illness, bending over to touch the earth every few seconds and repeating a mantra of “Every six weeks...”

Stiles walked back over to the sick triceratops. Her beak was rested on a pile of stones, small, round and very smooth. Which looked familiar for some reason. Stiles picked up the drool covered rock, rolling the smooth surface his hand, trying to remember where he had seen it before. It had to be from his digs or some –

His Digs!

“Derek—gizzard stones!” He shouted excitedly, shooting out his hand into the sky. Though, he wasn’t sure if Derek would be able to hear him since he walked off quite a distance from the group.

His concerns, however, were all for naught as the man shot his head up like a meerkat from the earth he was tunneling and made his way over to the group so fast, it was almost supernaturally.

“Stiles, that’s it, it explains the periodicity, the –”

“Uh, what are you guys saying?” Scott asked, almost timidly. Not wanting to throw off their exciting groove.

Stiles looks at Derek and smiles who returns with his. Bunny teeth and all. It sends sparks up Stiles’ insides, they are on the same page, he thinks and – oh, yeah – Scott is still waiting for an explanation.

“It’s simple, you see. Some animals like her, don’t have teeth – “

“like birds.”

“Like birds. What happens is, they swallow the stones and hold them in a muscular sack in their stomachs—"

“a gizzard.”

“Which is called a gizzard, and it helps them mash their food, but after a while—”

“--the stones get smooth, every six weeks, so the animal must regurgitate them and swallow fresh ones.”

“And when she swallows the stones, she swallows the poison berries too. That’s what makes her sick.” He finishes, as the first raindrop falls on his head. He strains his neck to see the dark clouds rolling in and a lightning strike lights up the sky, with bright flashes and thunderous applause.

“You guys better go back to the cars, mom and I are going to finish up with the trike and catch the first boat home, it was great meeting you all.” Scott waves at them, as they rush back down the hill. He faintly hears Scott’s mother yell to Derek that there’s a building around the bend with a toilet and sink if he would like to wash up.


	6. Tyrannosaurus Wreck

“I’ll be back in a moment” Derek yells over the rain. Stiles has no choice but to nod frantically, as he is getting sprayed in the face by the beating water as Derek stands outside with the door open, drenched and looking like he wants to say something else but decides better of it and shuts the car door with a borderline slam.

Stiles turns his body to squint at Derek’s retreating figure, which was blurred from the rain and cast in the shadows from the night, but he could still see make the haste trek up to the restroom that the veterinarian recommended. Which was honestly ridiculous if you’d ask Stiles, he could’ve just washed off in the rain and they would be back in the center in no time.

He must be one of those germaphobes, Stiles thought as he kicked his legs in boredom.

Clack.

They hit against something metal and hard. Curious, Stiles bends down and felt under his seat, fingering around until he finds himself grabbing onto a torch. It was heavy-duty and yellow, the type that construction workers use.

He has an idea. He somewhat ungracefully maneuvers himself into the back of the car, his long limbs getting caught up in the front seats send him sprawling into back ones in a heap. Once he untangles, Stiles is able to position himself to look in the back window, taking the torch and pointing it in the direction of the building where Derek ran off to.

The long beaming light illuminates the path, and Stiles can see the footprints in the thick mud and he follows them before – he hears it.

Boom.

A loud noise erupts, before stopping. Stiles almost mistake the sound for thunder, a small voice in his head is hoping that it is the power is coming back on. The hairs on the back of his neck are telling a different story, however, a story in which he should run and hide.

He lets out a small, pathetic whimper and calls out Derek’s name half-heartedly.

Boom.

There it is again, rhythmically and systematically.

Boom.

Like footsteps.

Stiles sharply turns to the side window, he points the light to where the goat is tethered or where it should be. The post that it was tied to was missing its occupant.

“Where’s the goat?” he asked himself dumb-folded and was answered with the heavy, wet smack of something hitting the car roof. He let a loud gasp, dropping the torch and retreating into his seat as far as he could go before he gained the courage to look up to see what could only be the bloody, dismembered leg of the goat, laying on the sunroof.

The sound of stained wire fencing forces Stiles to look past the goat and stare at the danger sign. A large claw was gripping the sign, pulling on the cables until it slowly retracting and then letting go altogether causing he DANGER, 1000 VOLTS sign bounced up and down. The body of the clawed animal was covered by thick foliage.

The loud rumbling caused Stiles to look even further up, and up and up. He was rewarded with the sight of his first living tyrannosaurus rex. The beast was slowly standing to her true height of 30 meters and had the last remains of the goat in her bloody, box-shaped muzzle and she lifted her huge neck back to swallow the animal in a singular gulp.

Stiles had noncoherently left the light on, and the bright beam made the t-rex snap its head at him.

Stiles had never felt like meek prey until that very moment.

The beast narrowed its eyes and began to pace the fence, and started to nudge at the wires with its nose hesitantly like it was prepared to be shocked. Much to the animal’s surprise the electricity never came. The t-rex then started to test the cables with her mouth, pull expertly until one came free. She turned her head cables spilling out of her mouth, mimicking a confused puppy.

A very dangerous, blood-thirsty puppy.

And she tried again, this time grabbing several wires in her mouth and pulled. Stiles watched as the fence began to buckle, the post collapsed into itself and the wires sent out an atrocious snapping sound leaving behind a triumphant tyrannosaur.

Huge legs began to stride over the ruined barrier and into the park road, stopping in the middle of the road to bend down and open jaws, letting out a bone-chilling roar which sent Stiles’ car shaking violently. The beast just stood rumbling for a moment, shaking her boxed head back and forth between the two cars before zeroing in on Stiles’.

Frozen in fear, he hadn’t had the sense to turn the light off and with sweat covered fingers he tried desperately to press the button with no success, it was jammed. The frantic movement of the light called the t-rex into action as it stalked over to the vehicle with predator-like precaution, circling the car and bending down to look through the window.

Its pupil of the yellowed eye was shrunken from the beaming light. Stiles could feel the blood rushing to his ears and his heart pounding like a drum, he took erratic gulps of breath trying to get enough oxygen. This was not the time to get a panic attack. He started to hear the breathing of the animal against the car and brought his hand up to his mouth so fast to stop the sound of his whimpering. He felt the warm, wet feeling of tears slid down face as he realized that there was no escaping this creature.

The dinosaur lets out another bone-chilling roar, which sends Stiles sprawling to the other side of the car, making him scream in terror. The animal nudged the car with its bloody snout, rocking the vehicle.

With a final snort, the rex pulls away slightly, raising its head higher. And higher. And higher. Until—

It strikes.

The head of the tyrannosaur plummets down into the sunroof, knocking the whole frame out of the roof of the car and down into the vehicle and by some miracle the glass doesn’t break, and Stiles is able to manoeuvre himself upside down with his feet in the air, kicking and pushing at the glass like his life depended on it. Which it did.

The rex snaps its jaws at the glass, tongue even licking at the barrier. Stiles is screaming bloody murder as the glass groans and spiders with crack lines. The dinosaur then retracts her head from the broken sunroof and begins to tilt vehicle with her head again. Each time pushing the car until it almost rolls on its side and finally, with a final, muscular push the rex sends the Explorer on its back.

Stiles begins to tumble around with all the glass, the shards cutting into him and making him bleed in gashes. The bottom, which was now the top of the vehicle was beginning to cave in and Stiles could only imagine the sight. One large leg standing on the machine as the dinosaur starts to rip at the presumed stomach of the car like any predator would prey.

The last thing he heard before he blacked out was the curdling roar of the tyrannosaur and the answering cry of a different creature. He strained to see the commotion but because of all the mud and blood covering his eyes, he was delirious and for a spilled second, he thought he imagined Derek was there with red eyes and a mouth full of teeth ready to fight the beast.

He tried to yell out to the Derek shaped creature to run, but the darkness took hold of him.

\---

Derek felt the most primal part of himself emerge from the surface, swinging his head violently in a motion which sent his facial bones breaking and rearranging themselves. The change was instant as his nose and brow bones became more animalistic in appearance, Neanderthal and snarled. Teeth elongated and sharpened as they cut into the gums like blades, bottom teeth over biting the top canine. Hands convulsing rapidly as his nails began to grow, nails slicing into his palm causing blood to spill. His eyes became more focused and piercing, blood red spilled into his pale eyes staining, and allowing him to see perfectly into the night.

And bellowed out a furious cry, which triggered the rex to look up from her prey and meet her challenger. The dinosaur responded with her own bellow but overwise looked confused as if she wasn’t sure where the cry had come from.

She couldn’t see him, Derek noticed. Her eyes, they weren’t meant for nocturnal hunting, the pupils were too small. The adrenaline pumping through his veins from the transformation quickened, now that he knew that he had an advantage over the beast.

If he was going to distract the animal long enough to save stiles, he had to do it now. While the rain masked his scent and the cover of darkness made him a ghost. The tyrannosaur was still cautious and unsure if it should continue its hunt or assert her dominance over its unseen competitor, and just stood with its body over its ‘kill’ defensive and rumbling.

Derek knew it was a ridiculous situation, a werewolf versing a tyrannosaurus rex, a premise which would’ve been gold to every c grade horror director, complete with terrible special effects. Just the size difference was laughable, a six-foot man and a nine-ton prehistoric beast going head to head would have pleased Stiles to no end with the cheesiness, he’d bet.

Stiles.

He looked over to the man laying among the muck and shattered glass and he felt a sense of dread if it wasn’t for the faint beat of his heart he would think for sure that he was dead. The large boxed head of the t-rex stated to lower once again to nudge at the car and he just acted on impulse, charging at the creature with supernatural speed.  
The mud sloshed all around, daring him to slow down as it stuck to his soles, but Derek took no notice. Just kept running, until he could feel the body heat given off by the creature and he jumped.

For a second all he could feel was air as he was flying, the only thing that anchored him to the earth sharp pinpricks of the rain hammering at his skin. It was almost peaceful, but that was short lived as he reached something solid.

The leathery and muscled neck of the tyrannosaurus.

The rex bucked like a testosterone-fuelled bull, trying to free Derek from behind her boxed head, snapping at air as he embedded his claws behind her skull. The wet heat surrounded his hands as they stuck in deeper. The rex’s small arms waved uselessly as they tried to scratch him off, the werewolf held on for dear life.  
The dinosaur began to spin wildly, large neck working furiously to snap and reach behind itself and with this motion it slammed its huge tail into the Explorer, making the vehicle slide in the mud.

The bucking made Derek lose grip, one of his flesh embedded hands slipped from the slippery, blood covered scales as the other hand desperately tried to hold on, his legs swinging violently. The rex sensed his predicament and snapped its razor-sharp teeth, which still glistened with the stench of goat blood.

The dinosaur made feral snaps, getting forever closer to his flying limbs until—

With one huge effort, the dinosaur strained its neck and sunk its teeth into Derek’s leg making him howl in pain. It was the worst feeling he had ever experienced, it felt like someone had shot him with dozen wolfsbane arrows and then decided that he needed to take a dip in a lake full of lava, what made it worse was that the beast didn’t even have a good grip on him. And then began to pull it could only rip off a small portion of his thigh leaving his leg flaring in pain.

As the head of the tyrannosaur reared to take another bite, Derek knew he had to do something. He looked at his clawed hand which was deep into the dinosaur’s flesh and somehow, he found the strength to push it further, feeling the muscled tendons of the neck beneath his claws contracting and bending as the tyrannosaur went berserk.

Slamming her head back she connects with Derek’s entire body, making him lose his grip and she makes for one last grab, her teeth clutching around his already tattered flesh and pulls.

And pulls.

And pulls.

Until he can no longer keep hold, claws slipping out of the body of the rex as she swings her head in a motion which sends his body flying into the forest on the other side of the road, which ultimately makes him collide with a tree. The blow makes the trunk rattle furiously, as he slides down the rough bark which scraped at his skin, luckily only hitting two branches. He landed on the forest floor with a huff, knocking all the air from his lungs. He tried to breathe, as he laid motionlessly in the undergrowth, but each inhale burned him like fire. His ribs were broken and were desperately trying to knit back together.

He remembered the unspoken law of werewolf anatomy, pain sped up the healing process, but it also hindered it when it was too great. So many different sources of hurt were making it hard to concentrate on what part of his body he wanted to heal, and his skin was sent into overdrive trying to fix it with no success.

He laid on the ground for what seemed like centuries, but it must have been less than a few minutes because here she came, angrier than ever but more cautious and slow it seemed from the sound of her stomping as she maneuvered around the trees in pitch darkness.

The tyrannosaurus was fast in open area but now she was in dangerous territory, a heavily forested area like this gave her an increased chance of tripping and for such a top build predator, a fall could mean death.

The approaching of the beast forced him to rise on his elbows bending his body in pain, careful to keep weight off his leg as he hobbled to gain his footing on his still abled foot, balancing heavily on the tree beside him and sinking his claws into the rough bark to steady himself.

The dinosaur let out a weak roar, challenging Derek once more but this time he was smart enough not to respond. He knew he’d made a number on her too, from the way her neck was bent in a way which told him she was hurting. The thick scratches tattooed her body from where she tried to pull him off leaving behind huge open gashes.

The dinosaur’s breath was loud and raspy, nostrils sniffing strongly as it smelled the trees. Hunting him. His open wounds told her where he roughly was, but the rain was still diluting his scent.

As the ground shook with each step, and the dinosaur’s stench surrounded him, he all but given up. This was it. He felt at peace almost, there was nothing to do but await death from the animal’s jaws.

But that was before he heard it. The sound of groaning metal.

The Explorer?

“Stiles.” His lips gasped involuntarily, adrenaline fuelling his body. The car must’ve reached the edge of the cliff. He had to save him, he had to try.

That one word, however, once it graced passed Derek’s lips gave the t-rex the perfect opening as it was able to zone in on his location completely. The dinosaur let out a snarl, not showing any of the signs of previous weakness and charged at him.

The tyrannosaur gave no notice of the trees as it ran, banging against trunks. Uprooting them, as she just continued to charge at Derek who was hobbling as fast as he could on one leg from tree to tree. It was like he was running on a beach with a tsunami at his heels, threatening to swallow him whole as it obliterated everything in its path.

And there he saw it. A large fallen trunk blocking the path of running, there was no way the tyrannosaur could jump it or run through it, it was much too big, and neither could Derek. Not with his bummed leg. Unless –

Yes!

There was a small gap where the branches separated from the trunk, it was going to be a tight squeeze and he might get stuck. But it was a risk he was going to have to take, there weren’t any alternatives.

He hopped as close as he could before he crouched on his good leg and jumped, only just making it through. On the other side, he landed in a heap, before hearing a smash. He looked up to see the tyrannosaur and the dinosaur either didn’t see the trunk in time or was too angry it simply didn’t care, as it charged right into the trunk. Splintering the entire tree causing the beast to fall.

To fall hard.

Its body sent the ground shaking as it tumbled to where Derek was laying. Eyes closed and breathless. Was it dead? Derek asked himself, surprising himself with the remorseful feeling in his gut as if the animal hadn’t been on a rampage to kill him.

He reached out a hand to touch the dinosaur, fingers grazing against the teeth. Warm and sharp. Trailing his hand up the muzzle and onto the nostril, feeling every grove and dip of the scales. Before looking up to see the beady yellow eyes of the tyrannosaur studying him curiously, allowing him to touch her as he froze in fear.

It was like a moment stuck in time.

A moment which was short-lived, as the dinosaur returned to her animalistic instincts and tried to snap at him while she was on the ground, wiggling her body to move but Derek was too fast and managed to invade the teeth by a hair as he threw himself back between two trees which forked each other. The dinosaurs muzzle was too large for its teeth to reach through, so it began to stick out its tongue.

The tongue was slimy and hot on Derek’s body as it tried to wrap around him. Pulling and prodding, forcing him to do the only thing he could have it pulled him back into the waiting jaws. He clawed at it.

The rex screamed in horror as it rolled onto its back, reminiscent of a turtle as it kicked its hind legs into the air trying to right itself, but with no such luck, she tried again but this time on her on her stomach; the useless forearms pushing at the ground while the back legs spreading beneath her failing miserably in the slick mud causing her to fall on her chin every time.

This was the moment Derek needed to make it to Stiles, he just needed to make it across the road and he knew he had little time. Not with the pure determination in the dinosaur’s eyes.

When he reaches the clearing, he knows there is no way that he is going to reach the other side even with the head start, not while he is on two legs.

So, he plants his arms and leg into the mud, conscious of his bummed leg and gallops over the road. From behind him he hears the tyrannosaur right itself and bursting through the trees, angrier then ever and he just knows if the rex catches up to him that the death would be slow and painful, cat and mouse like.

Wet mud sloshing on him from the thunderous footsteps of the tyrannosaurs signals that the beast is gaining on him. He can just feel the teeth from the feral lunges scrape the air behind him.

He reaches the car, which is swinging dangerously back and forth on the edge of the hill ready to plummet. Stiles is nowhere to be seen, Derek can only assume he is underneath all the muck and mud from the faint heartbeat which was music to his ears at that moment. His hand clasps around the metal of the vehicle straining to keep it from falling, the sound of the t-rex coming ever closer.

He sees the reflection in the metal. The dinosaur doesn’t look like it has any time to stop, the mud is too slippery, and the speed is too fast. It is going at such a momentum that it just collides with the vehicle tipping it over the edge, Derek views the whole thing like slow motion. The car crying out like a dying whale as it falls, catching on the trees and branches finally getting stuck in the veins below.

Derek and the t-rex look at each other for what seems like an eternity. Sizing and waiting for the other to make a move, before Derek does the next stupid thing he can add to his list ever since he stepped foot on this damned island.

He jumps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is! The iconic t-rex breakout scene, but this time with a sterek twist. 
> 
> This is the scene which made me start writing the fic in the first place, I did a gifset for sterekweek2017 and became inspired to write a jurassic park au!
> 
> The gifset is here if you'd like to check it out:
> 
> (http://hale-dereks.tumblr.com/post/166799390786/sterek-week-2017-scene-stealer)


	7. Treescape

Drop. Drop. Drop.

Thick droplets of rain wet his face rhythmically, causing Derek to scrunch his face in confusion. The water slid down the ridge of his nose and trailed until it reached his parched lips, smoothing the dry soft skin. While the steady splash of moisture was annoying, but he just couldn’t find the will to pull his arm up to shield himself from the dousing, it was just too hard. His body was tired and aching, a series of hurt which was strange to Derek because in the back of his mind he knows he should be healed now even though he couldn’t yet recall the reasoning for the hurt in the first place.

Derek tried to shut off his brain, thinking just made his head ache terribly focusing on the rain which soon felt like a dance as it hit his face, fluid and flowing. He began to listen to the noises around him, the swaying of leaves, the hooting of owls, chittering of insects and the croaks frogs filled his ears musically, nearby there was a faint noise which almost sounded like a roar. All his instincts told him to tense up, but he just couldn’t be bothered until he heard the groan of metal.

That familiar sound of groaning metal.

Slowly. So very slowly, Derek forced his eyes open. The light from the moon only just peaking through the canopy of leaves partially illuminating the undergrowth below. Squinting he sees the outline of the Explorer hanging dangerously in the branches above, vines barely snaking around the tires, straining to hold the vehicle in place.

Stiles was in that car, his brain supplied. That means it that the gnashing teeth and claws were real, the velociraptors, the t-rex, the Brachiosaurus. All of it was real. It was a living nightmare, a primal hellscape of chaos and destruction. But all those fears didn’t matter, not at this very moment, the only thing that mattered was the scraping of bark and metal overhead.

He started to stand slowly, testing the weight on his leg. He had no recollection of how long he had been out, but it seemed to be long enough to heal the gaping wound. He looked down at his tattered jeans, even in the moonlight he makes out the deep pink of the newly healed skin, raw and smoothed. The dry blood on his leg trekked on past where the wound used to be, caked on his ankle he could feel.

A deep cracking sound makes him look up at the tree again, and branches begin to break. Leaves and twigs start flying down onto Derek, who weakly swats them out of the way as he gapes at the scene above him in horror. The Explorer starts to slide down the tree, a few feet lower now that the branches have given way and there isn’t any more support.  
He flung himself to the nearest tree, the tree which was barely holding the car. He gritted his teeth as he fumbled for the first branch and pulling himself up, as he rested his full body weight on the limb he was worried that it would break too when he heard a deep straining sound. But alas it held, and he was able to make his climb.

Luckily, the limbs of the tree were evenly spaced, which made it easier for Derek to maneuver through the branches. As he reached the car, he could finally see the full extent of the damage that the car endured through its encounter with the tyrannosaur. It was caved in and compressed, the nose of the Explorer was completely smashed in as was the windows. The wheels were covered in vines and stuck deep in a fork, the only thing keeping the car held in place.

“Stiles?” he called weakly, before clearing his throat and trying again. This time much clearer.

“Stiles?” he says while looking through the shattered window, he sees the younger man huddled against the floor of the passenger side, curled into himself and hugging his knees to his chest, he was staring blankly past Derek’s head.

Derek stepped down onto one of the forked branches which were holding the car and pulled the driver’s door, letting it swing downwards. Stiles gradually repositioned his amber eyes to Derek’s pale green. He looked terrible, caked in mud and face stained with tears and cuts from glass, his own glasses were skewed and cracked hanging off his nose and when he talked he was barely audible, “I threw up.” he told Derek, shame laced his quiet voice.

“That’s okay.” Derek tried to reassure him, speaking softly like he was talking to a startled animal. “Listen, how ‘bout you take my hand...” Derek offers, stretching his hand out slowly. Stiles just looked at it dumbly and unfocused, not moving an inch.

“It’s alright, just give your hand okay? I promise that I’ll protect you, no matter what.” Derek knows he shouldn’t be making these types of promises, not here, not now. At least it gets Stiles attention, however, even if it is him looking at Derek like he’s thinking the exact same thing, but with a final assessing look he reaches out and takes Derek’s hand with a surprisingly strong grasp. Derek ended up pushing himself deeper into the car to help Stiles get out. Unoccupied hand resting on something metal to support himself, before –

He turned the steering wheel, the tires shifted from their more stable position in the forked limbs of the tree and now the car was rocking ferociously. The two men looked at each other with wide, scared eyes and Stiles tightens his hand around Derek’s with an almost bone-crushing grip as the werewolf pulls them both out of the car. Once they are on the branch itself Derek places his other hand on Stiles' waist.

“You are going to have to let go, you need both hands to climb.” Derek tries to tell Stiles, who was already shaking his head, ready to argue. “Stiles, we need to –” Derek stops midsentence as the branch sags and creaks violently, Stiles retracted his hand and was already moving to descend the tree so quickly Derek didn’t even have time to mourn the loss.

The two were weaving and ducking through the branches. “GO, GO!” Derek found himself shouting from above Stiles, they got a good halfway down the tree before Derek made the mistake of looking upwards and seeing the Explorer sliding dramatically towards them. It was coming fast, and faster and –

Derek positions himself above Stiles' head prepared to take the impact, not even sure if it would do any good, to be honest. He closes his eyes waiting for the pain, but all he hears it the sound of groaning and Stiles shouting his name. Looking up all he sees the branch they just climbed down from, only just supporting the weight about to burst.

“Oh, shit.”

“Faster, faster!” Derek roars, the two were not so much as climbing as they were falling and just when they reached the next limb, the one that the vehicle had been stuck on had broken.

Disintegrated, really, and the car continues crashing towards them.

They were only meters off the ground, and the car was coming to a lot faster now that the branches were becoming weaker and thinner, they had to jump if they wanted to make it. Luckily, the younger man had the same idea and shouted for them to let go.

“Now!” And with that Derek released his grip, falling the final few feet until they touched solid ground where his legs buckled from under him as he tried to land on his feet, sending sharp jolts of pain up his spine, next to him he could see that Stiles had landed in a heap; limbs splayed everywhere.

From behind them, the jeep crashes into the earth. Hard. Nose deep and upright. They made it.

Derek looks back at Stiles, ready to share a sigh of relief, who gives him a shaky smile before absolute terror fills his honeyed eyes and the contacts into himself, arms brought up to protect his head.

Derek looks over his shoulder and the car is moving towards them, yet again, tipping over, straight at them. There is no way Derek can get Stiles out of the way in time, so he just throws himself on Stiles to shield him, balling on top of him as tightly as he can.

He waits for the pain, the bone-crushing impact that he expects to come. It seems like forever, is he in shock? He could have sworn that he’d heard the groaning vibrations of the jeep connect with the forest floor, in fact, it felt like it surrounded him.

Looking up, confused and dazed, he sees that they are inside of the car, they were saved by the smashed sunroof.

From below him, Stiles lets out a muffled and irritated remark, “We’re back in the fucking jeep again, aren’t we?”


	8. Biceratops

They make their way through the park, trying to catch their bearings of where they were exactly. Far off in the distance, the roaring of dinosaurs’ echoes through the night.

Derek turns to him, gulping slightly but straight-faced, obviously trying not to show how scared he was.

“I think we should camp up in the trees tonight, it’ll be safer from the animals and we see where we are when day breaks.” The man suggests. Stiles nods, not wanting to be exposed on the forest floor any longer. He looks up the towering trees around them sighs, “I hate trees.”

“They’re not too bad.”

“Yeah, you weren’t in the last one.” And grabs for the trunk.

In truth he was worried about Derek, he hoped the climb wasn’t going to be too difficult for him, he had no idea how he acquired the injury but there was a large tearing in his pants leg and blood soaked the material and –

He hears another roar, this time much closer.

“Climb!”

\--

Stiles pushed the leaves out of his face as he climbed onto the next branch. The branch was thick and sturdy as he straddled it to catch his breath, he looked down and was barely able to see the forest floor, he hadn’t realized how far they had scaled but it made something in his chest lessen.

No predator would be able to hunt them so far up, they were safe, for tonight at least.

He looked over at Derek who also climbed the branch and had sat next to him, dangling his feet over the tree. Stiles found himself staring at the man, his face was illuminated with light and he had a soft and serene on his face as he looked out over the park almost like the terrifying events of the day hadn’t happened.

“Look,” Derek whispered softly.

Blinking quickly out of his daze, Stiles looked out to where his companion was staring off to, and he was greeted with an incredible sight.

They could see the park in all directions from their vantage point, from where they were given an amazing view of a dozen or so sauropod heads towering over the tops of the surrounding trees. The long necks were silhouetted from the full moon, creating something that could only be described as ethereal.

A sight which was extraordinarily beautiful and undisturbed in a way which made Stiles uncomfortable, he was an unwelcome voyeur in a world that was not his own and he was not something he should be witnessing.

Pushing down his qualms, he allowed himself to appreciate the skeptical. The herd was letting out a set of rumbling, which to Stiles sounded like an elephant, in a chorus of melodies which sounded quite musical.

Excitedly, Stiles shouts “Listen to that, they are singing!” immediately bringing a hand to his mouth to stifle his shout even though they are out of range of being eaten by carnivores. Derek, however, was smiling at him with his dimples on full display.

“Watch this, this is a trick we do out in the field,” Derek told him as he cupped his hands over his mouth, letting out his own cry, copying the rumblings of the dinosaur. The imitation did the trick as the herd immediately turned their heads in the humans’ direction.

Enchanted, Stiles feels his cheeks hurting from how hard he was smiling, and he let out his own call making some of the sauropods call back.  
“You know what’s strange, I mean obviously we have never one from a dinosaur before but,” Derek starts, gesturing his hand out to the animals, “I could swear that sounds…suspiciously like a mating call to me. On an all-girl island?”

“Hey, don’t judge the lesbian dinos, dude.” Stiles shrugs, causing Derek to snort as he moves back to the base of the branch, finding himself a solid fork to nestle into as he leaned back on the trunk.

Stiles was unsure of what to do, he looked around at the rest of the branches around him but none of them seemed big and comfortable or sturdy enough to give him a pleasant night’s rest. In the end, it was Derek that decided for him as he raised his arm, offering Stiles the place next to him.

Stile shyly scooted into the solid web of branches and Derek’s body, the tree limbs. Which were big, but were not big for two grown men to comfortably lay next to each other without touching causing them to practically cuddle as Derek wraps his arm around Stiles’ shoulder to keep him from falling.

He tried to calm his hammering heart as he laid on Derek’s body without Derek himself noticing, but of course that hadn’t worked.

“Sleep.” Was all he said to Stiles, with his eyes closed and voice tired. Stiles shifted, trying to find a good position to sleep in without jostling Derek too much but something in his back pocket pinched him, he winced and began to dig for it. It was the velociraptor claw that he unearthed forever ago in Montana.

Yesterday actually.

Had it really been that recent? It felt like it happened a million years ago. When Alan Deaton had given his dig a surprise visit, telling him that he would fund his expedition for the next three years if he came to Costa Rica as a consultant for his new animal park.

He rotated the sickle claw slowly in the dark, staring intently at the shadows and highlights of the claw that came and went. Once, he would have thought something like this was priceless. Not anymore.

“What are you gonna do now if you don’t have to dig up dinosaur bones anymore?” Derek asks sleepily beside him.

“Guess we’ll have to evolve too,” Stiles answers with a yawn. “Hey, Derek? What do you call a blind dinosaur?”

“I don’t know, Stiles. What do you call a blind dinosaur?” Derek mumbles.

“Do-you-think-he-saw-us.” Stiles closed his eyes and laid his head on Derek’s shoulder, heat surrounding him.

The last thing Stiles heard was Derek huffing out a laugh at his ridiculous joke and the songs of the dinosaurs.

\--  
From behind his eyelids, Stiles could sense that dawn was breaking, and he just couldn’t find it in himself to care as he nuzzled in closer to his pillow beside him, warm and contempt. His back and neck hurt as if he had sleep in an awkward position during the night but in the back of his mind was something telling him not to move too much.

His sleep, however, was short-lived as an eclipsing shadow entirely blocked out the rising sun and towered over him, causing Stiles to scrunch his face in a frown.

What the hell?

Slowly Stiles blinked himself awake, eyes adjusting to the enormous shape in front of him. Two giant brown eyes dopily stare at him in a curious manner. Stiles just stares right back, shocked, as the creature reaches up and stretches its jaw wide to chomp on a branch over his head which causes him to fully awake with a start and he goes scrambling back as far as he can go, jostling a figure beside him.

Derek, he remembered. Derek wakes up with a shock, head turning in all directions looking for danger before landing on the creature chewing on the leaves. His mouth was agape and bunny teeth were fully noticeable.

Handheld to his heart, Stiles had calmed his heart as he realized he wasn’t in any danger of being eaten, the longnecked dinosaur was clearly herbivorous. He lowered the clawed dagger that he aimed to defend himself, putting it back in his pocket.

As the shock wore off he was able to study the sauropod up close, the dinosaur had a small skull with a strong, wide mouth and thick jaw bones that worked as it chomped on the foliage with its spoon-shaped teeth in a motion which looked to Stiles like it was a cow chewing its cud. It had a large nasal bone in the center of its face which housed two nostrils, with its huge eyes encircling them.

“It’s the brachiosaur.” He announced, smiling, as he watched the dinosaur eat its breakfast with a bored expression. He scampered up the branch to get closer to the animal, picking up the fallen foliage that escaped the brachiosaur’s mouth, holding out his hand to offer it to the dinosaur.

“Come here, girl.” He calls, trying to whistle to get her attention. The dinosaur hesitantly takes the end of the branch and starts a tug-of-war with Stiles, making him almost lose balance before Derek grabs him by the hips pulling him back. “Thanks.” He throws over his shoulder, able to reach out his hand now that he is steadier and touch the brachiosaur on the nose, feeling the leathery scales against his fingers.

“Dude, you gotta touch her. It feels awesome!” Stiles said pulling the branch back towards him, so Derek had the chance to maneuver past him and reach out his own hand. Derek barely touched the animal’s head before the brachiosaur sniffed him, moving back and shaking its head.

Derek hesitatingly edged closer to the dinosaur, leaning over the branch and attentively stroking the snout before—

The dinosaur sneezed on him, drenching him in snot and dripping wet from head to toe. In the explosion he fell back in surprise, tumbling back into Stiles who couldn’t help but let out a bellowing laugh and was barely able to let out a shaky “Bless you!” to the retreating creature.

Rosy-cheeked and grinning so hard it hurt, Stiles looked over at Derek, who was pulling his soaked shirt away from his shirt in disgust and flapping the fabric away from his skin as much as possible.

“Here.” Stiles began to unbutton his red flannel, it was a little oversized, so he hoped it would fit. Derek took the plaid shirt gratefully and shamelessly began to shed his own Henley and flicking it onto the thickets beside him.

Stiles bashfully turned his face away from the amateur strip show, trying to give him a sense of privacy even though the other man wasn’t self-conscious in the slightest, he probably still wouldn’t welcome Stiles blatantly checking him out, though.

When Stiles looked back at Derek he was buttoning the final buttons on the over-shirt, staring up him from under his eyelashes and raising his eyebrow. “Biceratops, huh?” The other man nods at Stiles’ top, gesturing at the cartoon triceratops which was painted in the colors of the bisexual flag.

He immediately felt defensive, crossing his arms and setting his jaw. “What? It’s awesome, man…It’s not going to problem, is it?” Looking him up and down Derek finally met Stiles’ challenging stare with a strange expression when he said,

“No, Stiles. It’s not going to be a problem at all.”


	9. Even Flocks Without A Feather Tend To Stick Together.

On the ground, Stiles seemed in a much better mood, Derek observed, as they weaved and climbed through the expansive tree roots which snaked the undergrowth. He was whistling softly to himself.

The newfound contentment was distracting to Derek, the happiness in Stiles scent was almost clouding to him as he was surrounded by the pheromones, so much so that he hadn’t watched his footing and caught himself on a root and tumbled forward. Thankfully, his supernatural reflexes allowed him to catch himself last minute, balancing awkwardly on his heels.

He looked around sharply to see if Stiles noticed his little stumble, but thankfully, his embarrassment didn’t accumulate as Stiles walked on ahead focused on climbing over his own root.

“Get it together,” Derek muttered under his breath, internally scolding himself.

Sighing, he released his wincing features and straightened up. He was never this clumsy or unfocused, he was in every sense of the word: a predator; a being which moved through the underbrush with grace and precision, slinking silently in the shadows with intention.

Not fumbling about aimlessly because he was distracted by something shiny, the effect that the younger man had on him was very concerning, to say the least, and it bothered him to no end.

Rubbing his face, he started to follow but was stopped short when he heard a large crack, which echoed through the forest. Surprised, he lifted his leg to check under his boot. Rotating his foot slowly, Derek could see large fragments of shells dislodge themselves from his shoe and onto the floor where there were even more pieces. This time, they were not broken by him.

The crouches to the ground in amazement, reaching out to hold one of the fragments in his hand. Stiles recognizable and ungainly gait trudges up next to him, straining to look over his shoulder with interest, obviously hearing the cracking of the shells and wondering what spectacle caused Derek to stop.

Turning his body mindfully, worried about distributing the rest of the egg pieces, he cradles he fragment in the palm of his hands and raises the shell to Stiles who stares at it with wide eyes.

“That’s a dinosaur nest!” Stiles says, entirely too loud earning himself a short shush from Derek before continuing again, thankfully in a lighter tone, “A whole clutch of eggs, all hatched and now empty! How? Deaton said all the dinosaurs were girls?” he asks with rapid fire.

“I don’t know, but perhaps…” Derek thought back to the tour and the film which explained to them how the dinosaurs were engineered, mentioning how they used blood of the prehistoric mosquitoes which were trapped in amber, but obviously there were holes in the DNA, wasted away from time and wear and tear and they needed another animal’s genetics to close the gaps in the sequences. What had they used again?

“Amphibian DNA,” Derek announced suddenly, looking at Stiles whose eyes shined bright at the realization of what Derek was saying.

“They mutated the dinosaur’s genetics and blended it with that of frogs, and some species of frogs have been known to spontaneously change sex from male to female in a single-sex environment,” Stiles muttered to himself, slowly drawing himself to the same conclusion that Derek had.

“Derek, you were right! Look, life did find a way!” The younger man announced excitedly as he pointed to the nest below him.

At the array of tiny three-toed footprints painting the dirt and leading away from the nest.

\--  
The forest gradually looses most of the density as they make their way towards the visitor center, the tall ferns were soon replaced by small clearing and those small clearings were then replaced by open plains which stretched on and on.

Being out in the open would allow little cover for possible predators but it was also the quickest way to get to the visitor center, to safety.

“After this rise, the visitor center should be about a mile away. If we keep –” Derek started to encourage Stiles, who was breathing heavily beside him as they climbed the hill which overlooked the plains but was interrupted by a loud squawking and thundering footsteps.

The squawking intensifies as they reach the top of the rise, the animal cries become louder and repeated by many more animals. Once Derek is standing on the hill’s peak, he was able to make the shape of the animals’ in the distance.

They were strange looking animals, almost like an ostrich without its feathers and more reptilian-like. The only way Derek was able to describe it, was that it was long; strong long legs pounding against the ground as it ran fast and sure, a long neck retracting in on itself and bobbed in a distinctly bird-like motion and was kept upright by a long sturdy tail which acted like a counterbalance.

“They are definitely a breed of ornithomimidae, I mean, look how they flock. They are very much mimicking how birds act today, if I had to put my money on it I’d say they were gallimimus.” Stiles tells him, gesturing at the dozens and dozens of animals spontaneously changing direction in a sequence that seemed mystifying to Derek’s eye. All at once, he figures it out.

“STAMPEDE!” he manages to scream as the flock heads straight for them, turning sharply as if they are evading a predator, and sure enough a guttural roar bellows.  
The very familiar roar of the tyrannosaurus rex, which seemed to engorge them sounding as if it was everywhere and all around them, but Derek couldn’t stop and figure out where it was coming from exactly when the gallimimus herd was fast approaching.

“Oh shit.” Derek found himself voicing repeatedly as they try and make the futile attempt back to the cover of the jungle, but even with the rush of going downhill wasn’t fast enough to outrun the prey animals they were about to be enveloped and crushed by the sheer mass of the dinosaurs –

“There!” Stiles screamed over the stampede. His eyes zeroed in on a fallen tree, and oh god he was never going to look at trees in the same way if he survived this, the foliage was saving him left and right. If he did, in fact, survive this he was going to donate a hefty sum to anti-deforestation that was for sure.

They both leap over the root network, only just having time to cover their heads as the first of the gallimimus thunder dangerously over their skulls, chunks of grass, rock, and dirt were flying everywhere and hitting them like hail as the herd plows overhead.

After, what seems like an entirety, the final dinosaur jumps over the log and in the herd's place was a huge dust cloud from the upturned earth. Gingerly, both he and Stiles peer out from under the tree to see the flock running near the edge of the forest in a confused hurry, unsure of where to turn.

Derek has little time to wonder where the t-rex is before the beast is bursting out of the jungle, cracking tree with a humongous roar, cutting the herd off from the front and sending the flock in absolute disarray, scattering them everywhere.

The t-rex chooses its unlucky victim in all the chaos, barely having to move as it clamps down with its massive jaws into the animal’s side, picking it up and shaking it violently.

It was all over as soon as it had started, the kill making the dust and debris cloud, even more, providing them with the perfect cover to get away unnoticed, but Derek finds himself transfixed on the sight before him, half rising to his feet to gape in wonder.

He’d obviously seen hyena and lions bring down prey, but this was something else. The sheer size and primal display before him were so untamed and wild that is just…wow, and for a captive born creature, it was just something else.

He feels Stiles tugging at his sleeve and allows him to pull him back into the forest, it looks like they will be going the long way after all, but not before he sees the long deep scars in the tyrannosaur’s neck now caked in dry blood.

He did that. How the hell is he still alive, Derek wonders as he watches the dinosaur crunch on bones, muzzle dripping with blood.

And as if a final flaunt of triumph, the rex pauses in the middle of its meal and lets a roar which shakes through him even as they retreat once again into the undergrowth.


	10. Dino-snore

We should just take the raft.” Stiles suggested as he pointed towards the low-concreted maintenance building that ran along a bank on the edge of the forest.  
It was a fair way out from where they were currently positioned; deep into the tightknit trees, terrified of becoming the tyrannosaurs next meal.

He looked over at Derek, who was assessing the new find with contemplation before giving Stiles a final nod. He must have understood the rafts obvious advantages as well it seems, as it would be a lot faster over water than land. The surroundings would also provide them with much-needed cover with the dense foliage.

“Let’s do this,” Derek said, as began to walk in the direction of the maintenance building with Stiles hot on his heels.  
\---  
Inside the maintenance shed it was dark and dusty, only a few beams of light illuminated the room from the outside. Stiles stumbled through the room with the grace of a newborn deer, legs hitting something every few steps. It was a mess, there were spare equipment and tools sprawled all over the place, making Stiles weave through the masses with delicacy, so he would trip over a tire or something.

“I can’t see a raft, I can’t see anything.” Stiles huffed out, wincing, when he bumped into an oil drum, his side burning with the sudden shock. The metal drum echoed all around the room.

“Me neither, but we have to keep looking.” Derek’s reply came nearby, he sounded distracted. Like he was actively searching for the boat with precision instead of doing Stiles’ tactic and literally colliding with the objects in the room, and from Stiles could hear he was a much easier time navigating the room when no surprised huffs came from his companion.

It was completely unfair.

Stiles only realized that he made it to the other side of the shed when his hands out in front of him touched the cold, smooth wall of concrete. He felt up and down the surface feeling each shelf and hanging supplies attached to it. After slowly following the guide of the wall, he was able to twist through the maze of random upkeep tools he came across two sturdy plastic rods that hung from the wall with metal clips. With some groping of the new find, he came to the realization that they were oars.

“Where is the raft?” Derek asked him when Stiles called him over to inspect the new find, which good question. Stiles just stared in his general direction and shrugged, before remembering that Derek wouldn’t be able to see him. “It must be here somewhere.”

“You never actually saw the raft?” Derek said, incredulously.

“Nah man, I just assumed it would be here. You know with it being a maintenance building and all,” He could feel Derek’s judgy eyebrows in the dark, they were magic he just knew it. “and you know the river next to it.” He added, humming along and checking what other junk was laying about. His hand touched something metallic and cold, immediately making him jerk back in surprise before feeling out for again.

The object was a rectangle and very heavy, from moving his hand around it he was able to sense that it was a case of some sort. He lifted the bag and made his way to the entrance, so he’d be able to have a better look at the contents inside.

Once he was in the light once more, he placed the case on the ground and opened it with the utmost care, gasping at the sight before him. “Hey, come look at this.” He called to Derek, who sounded like he was taking the oars off the wall. The other man came over to him and placed the rods on the ground next to them.

Looking over his shoulder, Stiles lifted the case to show him the contents inside which included a compressed-air pistol and a cloth belt which held darts, there were six darts in all, each one as thick as his finger. Labelled moro-709.

“Good work,” Derek told him as he gripped his shoulder to lean over and grab the belt, his hand lingered for what felt like an eternity, before slinging the belt around his own shoulder and pushing the gun into his tattered jeans.

“It is a tranquilizer gun then? You know how to fire them.” Stiles asked him.

“Yes. It’s a little more heavy-duty then what I’m used to, but it’s got all the basic mechanisms.”

Feeling giddy now that they had something to defend themselves against predators, Stiles stood proudly. Grabbing one of the oars and twirled it around a little. “We should go check out the docks and see if the raft is there,” Stiles suggested, as Derek let out a small smirk and Stiles’ happier demeanor and started walking in the direction of the road which leads to the river, Stiles hot on his tail.

The road had a sloping embarkment which rose from each side making it impossible to see anywhere other than straight. The closer they got to the river, the sound of gurgling water, buzzing and deep rumbling began to mix in a symphony. Stiles’ entire body broke out in a hot sweat, his body movements becoming slow and mechanical as he looked around the bend of the embankment.

The tyrannosaurus rex was right there.

The rex was twenty feet away and on the other side of the river, but it was still too close for any real sense of comfort. She was resting under a tree and was curled around a carcass which was almost unrecognizable to Stiles’ eyes, apart from the long neck which was bent backward in an unnatural position. It had to be the gallimimus from earlier, such a small kill wouldn’t have filled the beast and she’d still want to feed. The thought made Stiles gulp.

Flies were swarming her face; the buzzing was even loud in his ears as he watched the pests move all over the dinosaur and its bloody muzzle, climbing in and out of the tyrannosaurs slack jaw and fangs and for one scary moment the rex moved one of her small, useless arms to scratch at her face to dislodge them without success and with a huff she turned over and continued to snore loudly.

With the dinosaur facing the other direction, Stiles plucked up the courage to look around. Near the end of the dock, there was a wooden shed which was painted green to blend into the foliage around them.

He signaled to Derek to stay where he was, the other man was pale with fear and shaking his head to argue, mouthing “No.” at him. Not wanting to stay here any longer then he had to, all while fighting a battle of will against his body and mind, Stiles pulled himself back before Derek could grip his arm to keep him there. He whispered sharply to the other man to cover him with the tranquilizer gun, hoping that he heard, and stalked low to the ground over to the shed.

When he reached the wooden shed, Stiles had quietly as possible opened the door, but much to his dismay the metal of the lock still scraped roughly against the latch making Stiles wince considerably. When open, Stiles saw that the shed housed at least half-a-dozen bright orange life jackets, several rolls of wire mesh fencing, and some coils of rope, and two big rubber cubes stacked on the floor, strapped tight by a thick belt.

Rafts. He looked back at Derek, nodding furiously when the other man mouthed “Boat?” causing a wave of relief to flood Derek’s face.

Stiles pulled the top cube at from the shed, the raft was surprisingly heavy as he waddled down to the water. In the river, he freed the belt which strapped the raft in a cube, causing the boat to immediately expand with a loud hiss and wacked the water with a thunk as it fully opened.

Stiles failed his arms at the inanimate object to tell it to shut up, all while screaming from within. His entire body was tensed and ready to run as he forced himself to look up at the tyrannosaur, who just grunted and shifted back against the tree with its impressive bulk causing the trunk to creak. Its jaws widened as it let out a long and growling belch slapped its head back down to continue sleeping.

The smell of rotting flesh carried itself down to where Stiles was, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust as he worked quickly to tie the raft to the dock. Once done, he climbed in and signaled to Derek to come out onto the dock. Derek came silently, with his body facing the dinosaur and one hand holding the oars and the other holding the gun, watching every deep breath the rex lumbered in her sleep before getting in slowly and using an oar to push off.

The raft drifted along the river swiftly, Derek picked up the paddles and pushed them into the oarlocks and began to row them out in soft and even movements, the wind was on their side which was helpful and meant that the tyrannosaur couldn’t smell—

Suddenly, the wind rocked the boat back and forth before settling on pushing his hair and clothes behind him. Derek looked at him with a stricken look on his face as he looked over Stiles' shoulder, making him turn with his heart in his throat and looked at the dinosaur waking up from its nap. The tyrannosaur’s nose wrinkled, and its snout lifted to follow it lazily towards the smell, rubbing its body against the tree and yawing as it stumbled to its feet.

The reptilian eyes blinked groggily for a few moments before zeroing in on the pair.

“It can’t swim right?” Stiles said out loud, wailing miserably, as Derek pushed through the water powerfully, all grace forgotten now that they were spotted.

“I don’t know, it’s a reptile, isn’t it? They can swim. But I don’t know. It’s not even a real dinosaur!” Derek shouted in fright.

Stiles’ question was answered though, when the animal stepped off the bank and plunged into the water, making its way strongly towards them with its body submerged and its head straining to keep itself out of the water. It wasn’t swimming Stiles noticed as he watched the dinosaur gain ground, it was walking, because moments later the entire head was underwater with only the nostrils and eyes above the surface with the ridges and humps of the back occasionally breaking the water; looking like the angriest, biggest crocodile Stiles had ever seen in his life.

Derek suddenly spun the boat around and began to row north much to Stiles chagrin. “What are you doing?” he screamed. The tyrannosaur was only a few yards away, now moving slower now that it is swimming. The nostrils of the beast were spraying water with vicious snorts.

“If we go any further we won’t be in the center of the lagoon anymore, and she will be able to walk again and pick us off,” Derek explained.

With great effort, the beast swam as far as it could, obviously exhausted. With one last desperate attempt, it widened its jaws and threw back its head to lunge at the boat with a muscular leap, barely missing the raft with its curved teeth grazing the rubber before slamming back down on the water with a huge splash. The raft rocking away with the momentum from the crest of the splash.

The tyrannosaurus sank. The air bubbles were the only evidence that it had been here at all when it sunk below the surface and the water stilled. Against his better judgment, stiles lent against the rubber and looked over the edge, looking to see if it had drowned.

Feeling like he was in a Jaws movie, Stiles saw them-

The bubbles.

Faint and rippling at the surface and coming right towards them. “Hang on!” He shouted. Grabbing at the handles of the raft as the dinosaur breached the water, its head collided with the bottom of the raft and spun them through the air before smacking down once more.

The head of the rex was bobbing up and down with snarling rage, he had to do something!

He sprang back to Derek and saw the gleaming metal of the gun poking out from his jean, and without a second thought, he grabbed it from its hold. Trying to remember everything his father taught him at the shooting range, he needed to hit something soft like an eye or the nose. The beast let out a guttural roar and Stiles aimed and fired. The dart hit the tyrannosaur in the cheek, making it shake its massive boxed head in shock.

The response of the tyrannosaur was almost immediate as it turned back towards the bank, and its large body was streaming with water as it exited the lagoon. It didn’t make it far, however, as it collapsed after a few steps, its body thundering to the ground. Whether from exhaustion or the dart, Stiles was unsure.

After realizing he was safe, Stiles could feel himself crashing from the adrenaline high. Handing the pistol back to Derek with shaky hands, Stiles scooted further into the raft forcing himself to calm his breathing and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingers crossed for some aquatic dinosaur fighting scenes in Fallen Kingdom! 
> 
> Also, check out my most recent piece of art for Welcome to Jurassic Park. It's based on the of Baby Blue Trailer, aka Derek + Fluffy Baby Raptors! http://wereswolfs.tumblr.com/post/169981426066/derek-and-the-baby-raptor-from-my-sterek#


	11. Mysterious Beyond

A dark and towering shadow fell over Derek’s sleeping figure, as he was snuggled deep into the raft. The sudden change in the light made his eyes flutter, waking him up in gradual increments.

The peaceful and calming sensation of the swaying river had allowed sleep to grab his exhausted body for just a moment, providing him with much-needed rest.

But even in his slumbersome state, he found himself in didn't repel the guilt which fested deep in his belly, as he realized that there was no telling how off-course they had become.

A reflective beam flashed in his eye, distracting him from his shame and blinding him for a moment, Derek brought his hand up to stop the glare and was able to get a better look at the thing which forged the darkness above him.

It was a dome, made of a geodesic stature. Triangular bars weaved and paralleled one another with reinforced strength, making it strong and stable. The only thing connecting the bars was a flimsy layer of mesh, which was thin and hanged lazily.

The river carried the raft beneath the dome, and within minutes Derek could hardly see anything at all. The area around him was shrouded in heavy mist, giving off a very ghostly vibe, making it impossible to see the very top of the dome.

Insects buzzed all around, making his ears twitch and his neck twist. The blanket of mist obstructing the view of his surroundings made him nervous for an attack on all sides, the entire situation set him on edge.

The only thing that distracted him was the all too familiar smell of burning as it filled his nose. Flaring his nostrils, he was able to zero in on the smell and discover a broken bit of foliage that had fallen into the bank and was somewhat laid across the metal of the dome, the greenery was wet and sparking.  Perking up, Derek realized that the power must have come back on while he was asleep, and the buzzing wasn’t just insects.

They were in a manmade structure, he thought giddily. That meant that there had to be a control room somewhere. A place where they could call for help or at the very least set off a motion sensor, that could report their very movements to the visitor center.

He reached down to shake Stiles awake. He felt guilty doing so, the other man looked so content and warm while he slept, and Derek really didn’t want to be the one to wake him up to this nightmare. The paleologist was tense and alert, studying the new surroundings with fear when Derek was able to wake him after just a few shakes, only calming when he saw Derek’s face.

“What?” Stiles asked him with his head tilted, curiosity lacing his voice.

“We need to get out,” he quickly continued when he saw Stiles’ pale face “The power is back on. We need to check if there’s a lodge, maybe there’s a phone or motion sensor? We should try and contact the control room.” Derek explained as he steered the raft to the edge of the bank, faintly hearing Stiles mumble under his breath about his use of ‘maybes’ but he didn’t protest further as they reached land and clambered out, slipping on the muddy bank.

Derek dragged the raft out of the water and tied it to the nearest tree, and they set off into the mysterious beyond.

\--

“This place is a dump.” Stiles moaned, as he walked shakily across a rickety bridge, his voice echoed across the eerie silence of the chasm. Derek found himself grunting in agreement, watching his own footing carefully as he followed closely behind.

“Oh my god,” Stiles wailed, causing Derek to look over his shoulder in surprise. He had to squint to see what caused the discontentment in Stiles’ voice but when he saw it, the annoyance stirred in his belly too. The lodge was in ruins, falling to pieces and the windows boarded up.

“They didn’t even finish it and I was gonna go out in the lamest way possible! Not even dying from the freaking tyrannosaur, but instead falling off this bridge,” He cried, shaking the bridge a little before his hand comes back to chest with disgust. “And to top it all off, I keep touching all this bird shit.”

Bird shit. Those words hit Derek like a ton of bricks as he looked the chalky substance which covered the rails and foliage around him.

“Oh my god,” he found himself repeating Stiles’ words, “It’s a birdcage” and just like that a long whistle came through the air and was answered by another one from the other side of the forest.

“What was that?” Stiles asked him, looking as frightened as Derek felt.

“A big bird?” Derek attempted to humor the situation, but even the words fell flat on his lips.

Up ahead, Derek spied a dark cloud in the mist moving fast. Whistling and squawking, it flew over to them in seconds. Looking up at it, Derek saw its huge shadow eclipsed what was left of the sun in the thickened fog.

“Is that a pterodactyl?” He asked his companion, whose mouth was gawked in an O.

“Sort of… yes? They are a little too big to be ordinary dactyl’s. I’d say they are probably ceratadactyl’s; with their wing size and furry bodies,” Stiles explained, “They eat fish.” He said offhandedly and distracted as he watched the air show above them.

The flying reptile was so graceful as it moved through the air. Derek watched as he saw another join it, and a third and finally a fourth. Before long there were five creatures dancing in and out of the mist in a fantastic display of airborne acrobatics. 

“I wonder why they weren’t on the tour? They are so cool.” Stiles said out loud, and Derek agreed wholeheartedly, as one swopped down closer and he could feel the wind being flapped around him from the fifteen-foot wingspan, giving him a better look at its crocodilian face and a toothy mouth.

A second dactyl folded its wings and dove down, streaking just past their heads. Its furry body almost colliding with him and making him duck a little. Derek was entranced by the creature and its strong but fragile appearance, the delicate membranes stretched across the huge wings were so thin they were nearly transparent.

His daydreaming was quickly interrupted when he heard a shout from Stiles, who was covering his head with his hands for protection. “It bit me!” Stiles yelled, shocked.

“It what?” Derek asked, even though he heard him perfectly. Bringing back a hand from his head, Stiles showed him the blood that the dactyl drew and emphasized his earlier statement.

“It bit me!”

Derek looked up to see two of the dactyls collapsing their wings to divebomb them as they let out a vicious squawk. “Come on!” Derek lunged for Stiles’ hand, dragging him across the rickety bridge and towards the stairs. He could hear the screams of the reptiles behind him and with a thrust he pushed himself and Stiles into the caged entrance of the staircase, covering the other man’s body with his own.

The clawed talons of the animal reached for his back and tearing at the plaid flannel through the bars as it whistled and squawked, flapping its huge wings and trying to stay in one spot. The huge beast had to fly away, squawking with frustration. Seeing his chance, Derek lifted Stiles up by the elbows and rushed him to go down the stairs, the slippery steps made it hard to run but the threat from overhead made them so.

 Once they jumped down from the last few steps, the duo was at the mercy of the Pteranodons’. The metal bars which surrounded the staircase would no longer offer protection as there was a vast meadow which separated them from the river. It would be a mad dash across the open ground and even if they do make it to the raft in one piece, it didn’t automatically mean they were safe.

Derek looked over to Stiles, who was gripping the metal cage with white knuckles and staring down at the distance they’d have to cover with steely eyes. “Are you ready?”

Stiles closed his eyes and sighed deeply as he released his hold on the frame. A wide and terrified-excited smile adorned his face as he opened his eyes and looked at Derek. “Let’s do this.” The younger man said with determination, earning him a decisive nod from Derek.

With one final check of the misty sky, the two sprinted across the meadow. Hearing angry hisses of animals’ in hot pursuit from above grew and after moments the hot beat of wings told Derek that one was right behind them, and at the last moment he reached for Stiles and pulled him down on the flat ground. The dactyl’s huge body flew over them, crying with outrage.

“Come on!” he shouted as he scrambled to his feet, only making a few steps before hearing Stiles’ scream of terror. He turned back to see that Stiles had been grabbed by the flying-reptiles talons and was trying to take off with the other man.

The strong wings beating with undeniable power, but he was just too heavy to be taken more than a few feet in the air, especially with all the thrashing and twisting Stiles was doing. The creature was having a hard time keeping hold of its hunt, struggling it tried to bite him with its long beak but was earned a punch in its nose for its jabbing.

The flyer did end up getting one particularly good bite out of Stiles’ arm, drawing blood and a howling scream which rung in Derek’s ears. He did the only thing could think of and jumped on the animal’s furry back, causing it to let go of Stiles in a surprised humph, and tumbled to the ground with Derek still on it.

Derek felt himself crushing the animal with his weight as it laid below him, squealing and snapping and trying upright itself. He narrowly missed its teeth and slapping of wings which beat around him in anger. He pushed himself off the dactyl as the talons almost clawed at him, and the flying reptile flopped around back on to its feet. The wings at its sides were bent like a bat, as it stalked purposely towards him, its beady eyes fixed on Derek with a demonic gaze like it was something out of a nightmare.

He was frozen in fear and astonished at the sight of the massive creature walking on its wings, the only thing which unclouded his mind was the fact that Stiles was screaming at the top of his lungs in fear. To Derek’s horror, he saw the man on the ground being swarmed by the other remaining Cearadactyl’s, his own hunter even joined the fray of his flock after seeing that Stiles was an easier meal.

The screaming and squawking filled his sensitive ears, making him cradle his head in his hands to block out the noise. Derek felt his claws prickling on his skin and his gums begin to grow with fangs. His brow fastened without his consent and his vision grew red.

He just wanted everything to stop; the screams, the squawks, the ringing, just for everything to be quiet. A ferocious sounding roar, right from his belly upwards, escaped his lips like a breath of fire. The sound echoed through the meadow and turned everything exceedingly still. Slowly, each of the dactyls turned their heads, in a very mechanical matter, over to his direction.

Fascinated by the sound of such a large beast coming from such a small being, the flock left Stiles in a humph and went over to investigate Derek.

That was their first mistake.

 What happened next was all but a blur, he could somewhat remember snarling and slashing at the animals, slicing through one of the thin-membraned wings like it was paper, causing the pterosaur to cry out in pain as it flew limply away. The rest of the flock decided it was best to follow their companion, climbing awkwardly in the air after him leaving Derek alone with a very bruised, but very alert paleontologist who was staring at Derek with wide eyes and a slack mouth.

“What are you?”  


End file.
